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Our tongues circle.
The kiss deepens and becomes desperate.
Months of pent-up emotions pour into it.
I allow myself to become lost in the kiss. I allow it to wash over the past. To erase the pain and hurt I felt at the hands of this man. At the hands of everyone else, too.
I get swept away in the moment.
I think only of the good things.
The things about Trent that make him a good man. The tenderness in his eyes right now. Every piece of him I see that others don’t.
I bask in that feeling, in that warmth.
He tightens his embrace around me, pulling me closer to him, wrapping his arms tighter around me.
There is no separation between our bodies now.
A moan escapes my lips.
“Are you okay?” he asks against my mouth.
“Yes,” I mutter back.
“Does anything hurt?”
“No.”
He loosens his grasp as if he is going to let go, and I tighten mine.
“Don’t you dare stop kissing me,” I basically growl.
I’m desperate for this man.
“Are you—”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He chuckles against my lips, and then his hands move below my ass, holding me tight.
Finally, after a few minutes, he pulls back and looks down at me with hungry eyes.
They devour me.
They tell me all the things he wishes to do to me.
I want all of them, mine beg back.
When he doesn’t do anything, I speak, “Please don’t end this.”
“I’m not sure,” he mutters to himself.
“But I am.” I grip onto his shoulders tight like I’m afraid he’ll part from me. “I’m sure. I want you. Don’t deny me this. I need this.”
His head inclines into a nod.
But he doesn’t say anything, so I’m not exactly sure what he’s doing when he steps back.
Is he leaving?
Staying?
He must see my confusion because he smirks at me.
That smirk drives me insane.
Then his hand lifts the hem of my shirt until I’m left in nothing but a skimpy lace thong.
His sexy smile deepens as he removes it, too.
“Now that you got me naked . . .” I trail off with a lifted brow, gesturing to him.
He begins to undress, too.
Both of us are fully naked. Admiring each other.
I will never get enough of this man.
The look he gives me makes me feel like I’m on fire. A raging inferno.
Ready to combust.
He drops to his knees in front of me.
My heart flutters with excitement.
My limbs begin to shake as I wait for him to touch me.
It feels like this moment has been in the making for so long in my mind, and I’m busting at the seams to feel him.
He presses a kiss to my knee, and then he starts to trail his mouth up my thigh.
Finally, after what feels like the longest, sweetest torture, he answers my prayers and places a kiss where I need him the most.
His tongue licks.
It’s slow. Too slow.
I wiggle my hips.
He laughs, and I want to smack him, but then he presses a finger inside me, and all thoughts of beating him up are long gone.
I’m mindless now.
A quivering mess.
Breathless.
Needy.
He quickens his pace, and I’m falling over the edge. An ecstasy-filled moan escapes my lips.
I’m fully sated, but I still crave more. He’s an addiction. I whisper his name as I come down from the high. It’s a plea for more.
Then he’s moving, and I watch through hooded lids as he rips a condom open and slides it over his length.
I shimmy back up the bed and wait for him.
He moves like a predator, stalking, ready to devour me whole, crawling up my body. When he reaches my face, he frames it with his hands. His touch is gentle. Caring. I swallow hard at the movement, breath hitching when his thumb brushes my neck.
He returns it to my cheeks, rubbing just before the corner of my lips.
Our gaze meets.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
I’m basically panting.
I know it sounds desperate, but I’m not embarrassed because he is too. I can feel his hardness pressing against my thigh. It throbs.
Trent laughs at my tone, but then he is kissing me, and I part my legs wider in invitation, allowing him access.
“Trent,” I groan as he makes me wait. “Fuck me already.”
He groans.
When he does nothing but smile against my lips, I scold, “Now.”
This is just like us, to fight even when in bed.
Slowly, he guides himself deep inside me. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, probably allowing me to adjust to his size, but when I’m about to open my mouth and tell him to move, he does.
He pulls out.
Thrusts in.
Pulls out.
Thrusts in.
He continues this slow and steady pace.
In, out.
The feeling is too much, yet I hope it never ends.
It’s amazing. Like him.
With each press of his body within mine, I moan and wiggle against him to go faster.
Harder.
His movements pick up. He answers my pleas until both our breaths accelerate as we chase our release together.
